Guns, Salt and Magic
by firephonixe
Summary: Thor had one job: to ensure Loki's safety during his yearlong punishment on Midgard. And yet, he lost him. After a year of searching, he finally finds his brother and faces two questions: Why doesn't his own brother recognize him and why does Loki keep calling himself Luke Singer? A story of lost memories and redemption. This story is set post-avengers and S2 of Supernatural.
1. The Beginning

**Hello to all Fanfiction readers, writers and even curious bystanders! I am the writer Firephonixe and I am here to bring you a new story. Although I have many unfinished stories (thanks to a crashed laptop) this one will be different. This story first started out with just a one shot, then grew into another, and before I knew it, I thought, well why not put it all together? So here we have of drabbles of Loki's redemption in our world. I would like to thank Midnight Spiral and my good friend Hannah for being my beta readers! They are awesome people who are always continually helping me improve as a writer. Finally, critiques, comments and reviews are always welcomed!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or stories of: Thor, Avengers nor Supernatural. However, this story is based post avengers and mid season 2 of Supernatural.**

Part One: Guns**  
**

000

Chapter One: The Beginning

_"Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer; the secret of redemption lies in remembrance."- Richard Von Weizsaecker_

__000

"It is time, brother."

Loki didn't know if he should laugh at his own predicament or roll his eyes at Thor's choice of words. Whatever punishment he would be given, it was better than being chained up with Thor, whose face seemed to be permanently frozen with pity, in addition coming at all hours of the night to his 'cage' and reciting speeches to convince him that it was never too late to change his ways. Unfortunately, he was unable to speak at all thanks to the muzzle that he wore, keeping him from spitting out anything remarkably intelligent. Not that he would be given a chance to.

The cage that he was imprisoned in was his own room, which held a four poster bed with green silk sheets. Decorative gold vine trimmings upon the dark green walls complimented the dark bookshelves that were all neatly aligned with ancient books; but even this familiar setting could not fool Loki of the direness of his predicament. The room had been sealed off with magic by some of the eldest sorcerers and guards secured the doors: There was no escape for Loki. The sun streamed through the painted glass window of Loki's room as a new day dawned on Asgard, the day of his sentence by the All Father. Loki was just enjoying his supposed last view of his so- called home before he was abruptly interrupted by his idiotic brother, the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif.

Thor's comment seemed to make the air in Loki's room unbearably thick with tension and in response, Loki raised an eyebrow as he rebelliously sat on the window ledge, unmoving. He didn't have to wait long before Sif stormed up to him and forced him to stand by grabbing him roughly by the collar of his armor. Without another word from any of the Asgardian warriors, Loki was marched out of the room toward the royal chambers.

The footsteps on the marble floors were the only sounds that echoed through the corridors. Loki took in his surroundings. Thor's face was set in a grimace, the Warriors Three ranged from pensive to hunger and anticipation all the while Sif's was positively smug as if she knew all along since they were children that this was how Loki's life would end. Brilliant.

They finally approached the golden doors. Thor and Loki stood side by side as the doors groaned and slowly opened. Loki furtively stared at Thor from the corner of his eye and couldn't help the nostalgia as he vividly remembered that the last time they stood here together was Thor's coming of age.

_"Never doubt that I love you."_

A strange twist in Loki's stomach made him realize that it was his own words that bombarded his thoughts. Words that he had privately spoken to Thor, and sincerely as well (even if Thor claims that he is incapable of such a thing): Although he was also sincere when he'd told Thor that he would bring the Midgardian race to their knees. Thor finally felt Loki's gaze and met it with his own. The look in Thor's eyes was not pity alone but something else, something with depth that he didn't know his brother had in him. But whatever it was, Thor's gaze made Loki's skin bubble with rage and his green eyes narrowed and hardened in return. When the golden doors were fully opened, the company began to walk once again leaving Loki and Thor's memories behind. They were greeted with immediate cheering for Thor and his warrior friends while angry shouts and hateful glares were aimed at Loki. Past the huge audience that had gathered on two sides of the great hall, Loki could see Odin as well as Frigga, both of whom bore determined expressions. As if in a last attempt, Loki tried struggling against his bonds which were beginning to become painful for his thin wrists. Nothing.

The company walked up the throne room with purposeful strides except for Loki, who decided to use this time to glare at any Asgardian who dared to look down upon him. Odin sat perched on the throne with his eye watching them as they made their way to the front. When they approached the bottom steps of the throne, all the others bowed down. Sif kicked the back of Loki's knees and he fell into a forced bow.

The time had come, and as Odin stood from his throne, the hall immediately fell silent. "Today is a great and terrible day. The sons of Asgard have returned home. In this we can rejoice; however, we have a great crime that we must face and my son Loki is at the heart of this tragedy. Today we must decide his fate and the fate of two worlds. Loki Odinson, you have broken your vow to protect one of the nine realms by condemning it to slavery and destruction."

At this there was a great clamor throughout the halls, as those who had fought in the war against the frost giants screamed in memory of those who had been lost to protect the world and allow the mortals to flourish. The cries of outrage echoed through the halls and filled the air with agony.

"Enough! We all know the pain that this has caused. It is clear to me that I alone must decide the fate of my son, for he is my responsibility and I alone am responsible for him. He will be banished from this land with his powers stripped from him. He shall be placed on Earth so that he may learn the error of his ways. To ensure the safety of the Midgardians, this punishment shall last for one mortal year. If at the end of this period Loki has proven himself, then he shall be welcomed back, title and all. If he proves obstinate and doesn't change, he will be banished to the Isle of Silence."

As Odin raised his staff Thor stepped forward and begged his father; "Father, please consider this carefully! The people of Midgard will slaughter Loki on sight! He is my brother, please allow me to bring him to Midgard and choose the place where Loki is banished so that his trial is not tainted by the hatred of the mortals."

Loki should be touched at Thor's persistence to help him. But it seemed a little too much in Loki's opinion, and he would attribute it to the guilt that had been clawing at Thor lately. Loki knelt there wishing that he could speak on his own behalf, so that he could point out the differences of Thor's banishment and his own: Thor wouldn't have changed if it wasn't for Loki's lies and mischief, after all. He can't believe it; but his plan of showing Odin how incapable his idiotic brother was had ended up changing Thor for the better, at least in Odin's eyes. Loki knows his punishment will be nothing like that. Odin's single black eye bored down into Loki and Loki feels the pit of his stomach drop to the polished golden floor as a realization hit him. Loki's punishment would not be the same as Thor's. Or at least, the result won't be.

"Your brother makes a compelling argument, Loki," Odin admitted as he rose from the throne and took slow, calculated steps towards Loki. Sif grabbed Loki by the collar and roughly pulled him up, which resulted in Loki finding his balance ungracefully. If it wasn't for the muzzle over his mouth, he would have growled. Loki always prided himself of being scholarly, quick witted, and clever. Being reduced to nothing more than a speechless rag doll was not how he envisioned his last moments. Another reason he hated Thor, who deprived him of a warrior's death.

"Remove the muzzle." Odin commanded and the Warriors Three went to work on removing the muzzle. Within a minute, the muzzle fell limp to the floor with a soft clap. Loki massaged his cheeks with his bound hands.

"Do you oppose your brother's suggestion of redemption?" Odin inquired.

"I don't suppose I have a choice now, do I?"

"Do you wish to speak about the crimes you have committed?" Odin took only three steps to reach Loki's personal space.

"If you're asking for an apology, then I have nothing to say." Loki replied coldly.

"Very well. Thor, you will be Loki's charge, but you must not interfere with his banishment." Thor sighed in relief and bowed to his father in gratitude. Odin turned from Thor and faced Loki, who had a particular sour look upon his face.

"From this moment on, you are banished to Midgard." Similar to his brother's banishment, Odin gripped and tugged at Loki's armor. Fire spread and burned at his touch and Loki cried out in shock as the metal links of his armor fled from him. Odin's voice was broken but thundering, "You will be stripped of your rank and your powers." Another tear of his armor from the All Father and Loki couldn't help but look to Odin in desperation. And then he felt it, his father's power. It was as vast as the stars of space and yet so old that it made Loki feel like an insignificant child. Impossibly, the power grew tenfold and was now pulling at Loki's very being away. Loki fought it as hard as he could as he stared defiantly back at Odin with a snarl. And then he lost it, his grip. He was being flung backwards but he could still hear his father's voice whispering softly, "When a lesson of true sacrifice and compassion has been learned, only then can you regain what is truly yours."

The feeling could be described as draining, helpless and yet riveting, and it was certainly nothing like the time he had fallen off of the Bifrost. Instead, his own magic was escaping him like blood would escape from a body suffering from a wound. The darkness pressed against him everywhere and he began to fear that he was going to suffocate before he even landed on Midgard. Loki closed his eyes and prayed for a merciful death until everything ended with a crashing boom and he knew no more.


	2. Monsters and Men

**Hello world! Before we begin, I have been barely in and out of the Fanfiction website and boy have I realized how much has changed when I first joined the site! My favorite addition is being able to tell who from what part of the world is reading my story. And just think, to have a variety of reviews and critiques from all over the world; freakin awesome. I just want to thank: silmarlfan1, , ChickWithThePurpleGuitar, SherryAi and other people that have reviewed! In Addition, I couldn't post these chapters without my awesome beta reader, Midnight Spiral. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Avengers.**

000

Chapter Two: Monsters and Men

"_And I'd promise you anything for another shot at life  
Imperfect boys with their perfect lives  
Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy"-Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes_

000

A groan escaped from thin lips as Loki blinked rapidly as if to banish his blurry vision. When his vision finally cleared, he was staring up at the night sky which was mostly obscured by tall lush trees. The banished prince attempted to move from his sprawled position on the forest ground when a louder groan emitted from his lips. To describe his body as sore was an understatement. To even think about moving a single finger sent flares up his spine and to his already throbbing temples.

_It could be worse_, he thought. At least his enemies wouldn't have the pleasure of seeing him sprawled out on the ground…again. A recent memory came to surface of a similar situation that included the Hulk and a leering Anthony Stark.

After a couple more embarrassing moments of crawling on the ground like a newborn child, Loki was finally able to stand and take in his surroundings. He was surrounded by tall, ancient trees that loomed over him. His ears were met with the cries of crickets while his nose was met with the promise of rain. The air was thick, making his shirt stick uncomfortably to his thin torso.

Loki picked at his thin gray shirt observing with great distaste at the lack of warmth or style the shirt gave him. Moving on he went to inspect his pants which were the same as the shirt: simple, black and cotton. He rummaged through his pants pockets and gave a sigh of disappointment. Loki was hoping that some of his magical items and tools would make it through the fall, but apparently Odin thought of this as well. Moving through his disappointment of having the lack of his magical tools, he realized, with great annoyance, that he was left abandoned in the middle of the woods without any shoes.

Loki knew that his situation could be worse, he could have been left naked but the situation still stood. He had no supplies, no weapons, and no food. Loki's mind kicked into overdrive as he tried to make a plan: water, food, civilization, and then world domination. Well, a basic guideline for now.

He screamed into the starless sky, "Are you happy brother? I swear as soon as I get my powers back I will finish what I have started! Your pathetic humans will never be safe from me!"

Loki was answered by a clap of thunder and, as if to spite Loki, rain followed swiftly after. Now, soaking wet, Loki stood there seething as his clean feet sank into the muddy ground. Without another second, Loki angrily turned and began to track through the forest.

"Unbelievable!" Loki growled to himself. He blindly walked through a stream and cursed when cold water stung his feet as well as soaking his pants.

"No, let us not kill Loki! Let's have him spend a year in a pathetic excuse for a realm that he tried to rule! That sounds like a brilliant idea."

Loki lost his footing during his rant on lose rocks as he began to climb a steep hill. Flashes of lightning were his only source of the light at the moment and he continued to feel his way to the top.

"A god, forced to live as one of them! I will have your throat slit for this Thor!"

Loki finally reached the top of the hill and found himself in a clearing. He wiped his dripping hair away from his eyes as he tried to see beyond the rain and darkness for any cliff or caves to take shelter in. Loki's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to discern what region of Midgard his father had landed him in. Unfortunately, he had not spent as much time exploring the realm and still could not guess until he came into contact with some life form of intelligence.

It was while Loki was in the middle of his musings that he heard a branch snap. Loki turned around and instinctively reached for his non-existent daggers. Loki cursed himself for not being more careful.

Even without his magic, he is still a trained warrior and his instincts were currently screaming at him to not be standing idly out in the open. Slowly Loki stepped quietly backwards as he scanned the tree line for the presence he heard only moments ago. It wasn't till he was five feet from the tree line that the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and Loki stopped. It was then that Loki noticed that there were no more insects singing. It was eerily silent as Loki craned his neck slowly behind him.

It was almost comical that he could have missed a creature like that. With a flash of lightening, Loki was able to have a glimpse of the creature that was now standing in front of him. The shape looked vaguely human but that was where the similarities ended. The skin looked tainted and grey with teeth that were missing and protruding at odd angles. Even in the darkness, Loki's sharp eyes were able to take in the long limbs and fingers that currently spread to either side of its body. Sunken eyes stared hungrily at him as Loki desperately tried to put a name to the creature. Nothing came to mind and Loki cleared his throat as a weak smile was worked onto his face.

"Well, don't I feel silly. You seem to have caught me at a bad time." Loki gestured with his thin arms to himself. Loki may be powerless, but he still has his silver tongue. Talking his way out of trouble is what he is born to do.

"You wouldn't have happened to know the way to the closest town, would you?" Loki asked politely as if he was only just strolling through a park, but the creature didn't answer. "Perhaps a reward could be given for your services?" The creature still didn't answer. Curious, Loki tilted his head slightly to the right. Interestingly enough, the creature mimicked his movement.

"Hello?" Loki said, wondering if the creature could speak at all.

The creature didn't move, and Loki, believing that the creature was only a simple one and safe enough to ignore, turned his back on the confusing creature and continued his way out of the clearing.

_"Hello?"_

Loki abruptly turned around to the sound of _his own_ voice. Loki had a list of demands at the tip of his tongue when he saw that the creature was not there anymore. Fear began to pool within his stomach. The creature was smart and could mimic voices. Not the best way to begin redemption, Loki thought in anger which was aimed at a particular thunder god. With no weapons, supplies, magic or even armor, there was only thing Loki could do.

Run.

Loki sprinted into the forest. Rocks scraped at his muddy bare feet as pricker bushes scraped at his delicate skin but Loki could still hear the creature behind him. Not daring to look back, Loki started to zigzag each time he heard the creature get closer to him.

Loki was panting heavily now when he stopped short. Not two feet away was a fifty foot cliff atop which he stood. Heart beating fast, Loki moved away from the cliff as he tried to locate the creature. Again, Loki wiped his wet hair and the rain away from his eyes. It was when the creature was nowhere to be seen that Loki realized that the creature had planned for him to run off this cliff. It was a chilling conclusion that he was the one being hunted and no amount of talking could get him out of this predicament.

But he had no other choice. He had to keep running until he found some shelter or town. Running along the cliff, Loki desperately searched for a town in the distance. It wasn't long when he heard a loud crack from above and he stopped in time to see a tree, now on fire, fall in front of him. A terrible, inhuman scream echoed while Loki darted right and barely missed the flaming branches. Loki continued to run when his right foot, which should have hit solid ground, found only air and he fell down the steep cliff. Loki desperately clung to a tree root as he struggled to bring the rest of himself to solid ground. But it seemed his day was going to go from bad to worse when the root came loose from the ground due to the heavy rain.

With a surprised cry Loki tumbled down through rocks and mud and when he tumbled to the ground, his head collided with a boulder with a sickening crack. Dazed, Loki tried to get up several times before the dizziness took over. His body surrendered to the mud with a splat with his face turned up to the storming sky. Green eyes glazed over as red blood oozed from his raven head to the earth beneath him. And then, there was silence.


	3. Lost and Found

**Happy June everyone! I would like to thank everyone that reviewed. A side note, I've been going through old favorite stories, and came across some really good fanfiction involving redemption. If you guys watched Avatar: The Last Airbender, you guys should read Shattered by Magnusrae. It's an amazing story about Zuko's redemption and its one of the first stories that I read when I first joined . I want to thank Midnight Spiral and MoonMisstriss4 for being my beta readers/editors. Reviews and critiques are always valued.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Avengers.**

000

_Chapter 3: Lost and Found_

_If home is where the heart is, then we're all just fucked  
I can't remember, I can't remember  
And I want it so bad, I'd shoot the sunshine into my veins  
I can't remember the good old days – 27 Lyrics_

000

A black Impala roars along a forgotten highway in Minnesota. Even though the rain is pelting against the Impala like drums, the loyal car easily drives on as lightning streaks across the sky. Inside the car, two brothers search for three missing people. A tall, muscular brunette bends his tall torso over a crumpled map, eyes squinting, with a flashlight as his only light source. The other brother, slightly shorter with dirty blond hair, grips the thin steering wheel harder as he pushes the car faster. Something catches the older brother's eye and he speaks to his younger brother.

"Sam, check it out."

Sam looks up from the map and follows his older brother's gaze and sees a giant flaming pine tree collapse in the forest to their right. Without another word, the older brother pulls the Impala on the side of the road and parks it roughly. The brothers can still see the flaming tree fall, even though it is pouring rain all around them.

"What do you think Dean?" Sam yelled over the pouring rain, shaggy brown hair matting to his head. "A flaming tree in the middle of a rain storm?"

Dean was going to argue that it could have simply been lightning that ignited it in the first place when an inhuman scream pierced the air. Sam and Dean looked to each other and in silent acknowledgement, gathered their guns and supplies and began their trek.

000

The sound of flapping wings could barely be heard in the woods over the thunder and lightning, but following the peculiar noise, a small Caucasian man appears out of thin air at the bottom of a cliff in nothing more than a faded red t-shirt and blue jeans with black loafers. With hands crammed into his pockets, he walks casually toward the bottom of the rocky cliff as rain pours down relentlessly. He finds what he is looking for which turns out to be the limp form of Loki, lying lifelessly on the ground.

The mysterious man, who has honey brown eyes with chestnut brown hair, which is now soaking wet, pulls out a lollipop from his jean pocket. He easily tears the wrapping off to reveal a bright red shell and pops it into his mouth as the wrapper falls to the muddy ground, forgotten. He squats down near the body as he observes the pale, young man who seems to be bleeding from a head wound. Rolling the lollipop in his mouth, the man pokes Loki's head. Watching the head lifelessly roll around, the man grins and speaks with excitement that sparkles in his eyes.

"Well, what do we have here?"

Loki gives no response to the man's presence or his actions. The mysterious man's grin falls into a frown and he looks up into a sky, as if that is where all the answers lie. Then, trimmed eye brows lift into his forehead in shock and his grin returns.

"Well, well. Almost didn't recognize you, Loki." The man chuckled as he places two fingers upon Loki's forehead. Instantly, the bleeding stopped and there is movement behind Loki's eyelids, but the man keeps his fingers on Loki's forehead until the movement stops again.

"Who would have thought that _you_ would be the game changer?"

The mysterious man removes his fingers from the unconscious man's forehead and stands up to look over his work. Loki, still wounded, but not dying, continues to lay there as the man brings the lollipop out of his mouth with a loud sloppy pop. But then his back straightens as his ears perk up like a dog and he stares into the distance with his eyes narrow in concentration. Looking to Loki one last time, he winked at the unconscious form and then disappeared as suddenly as he had come.

000

Boom! Green eyes snapped wide that were immediately met with glops of rain. Pale hands wiped thin raven hair away from his eyes. Mud and wet grass assaulted his senses as he slowly took in his surroundings. _Trees_ his mind supplied him and he realized that there were a lot of them. He slowly stood up and immediately felt his head spin. Automatically, the man grabbed his head in attempt to control the pain and felt something sticky. Pulling his hand away, he observed red dripping off of his hand. _Blood_. He tries to gather his bearings but everything feels fuzzy.

Questions. He has so many questions, but the answers are out of his grasp. He tries another one. _How do I get out of here? _He sees footprints leading to his current spot but his mind argues that there is no point because the rain has probably washed away most of his footprints. Rain continues to fall as lightning strikes. Suddenly, he hears something. Not lightning nor raindrops, but something…

It's on the tip of his tongue until he hears heavy footsteps. His instincts kick in and he kicks his wobbling legs into a frantic run.

Running. His world is filled with nothing but running. But running from what? He can't remember, but he knows he has to run. Humid air is burning in his lungs but his legs are tirelessly pushing his slim body through the thick mossy trees abyss. He feels out of place, his pale hands seemed to make him glow against the dark green forest. It made him feel more of a target, but for what?

He needs help, he knows this but no one seems to come to mind. He stops for a moment near a tree that has a fork split and had seemed to curve around each other. He takes big gasps of air as he tries to remember anyone who could help him. His heart beats faster as he realizes that he can't seem to remember, but if only he can breathe maybe he can remember.

And then he sees it. He now knows why he has been running. The thing is large with long limbs and the man doesn't even know what it is. All he knows that he needs to run again. He starts off in the opposite direction until his head meets his feet as he feels himself being lifted off the ground. Higher and higher while his torso is gripped by what feels like long fingers. He was exhausted and his lungs were having hard time breathing from the force of whatever was gripping him.

Screaming. _I'm not alone?_ He tried to turn his head to the screams but everything is a blur mixed with rain. Or was it dark? He can't tell anymore. Dark spots are now plaguing his vision. He's tired, and his head is burning and spinning. Even the screaming seems to have died down. It's the last observation he's able to note before he succumbs to sleep.

000

Heimdall, the all-seeing and all-hearing guardian of Asgard, snaps his head to the Bifrost gateway. He slowly walks away from the rainbow bridge of his guarding position and he enters the golden dome hoping it wasn't a mistake. For he is Heimdall, one who sees and hears all: except for the location of an ex- prince, Loki Odinson. He tries to See again when he is loudly interrupted.

"Heimdall!"

A booming and commanding voice that he knows belongs to Thor echoes within the golden dome. He turns and confirms that it is Thor striding toward him with an air of conducting an important quest.

"Get the gate ready to bring me where Loki has been sent. I am to watch over Loki's trial of redemption on father's orders."

"I cannot do that." Heimdall gravely said as he places the sword key in front of him.

"Do you defy father's orders?" Thor demanded, shocked at Heimdall's defiance.

"Nay. I always obey the King's laws and orders. But it seems that Loki has found a way to avoid my gaze. I cannot find him." Thor looked at him in shock.

"Loki has regained his powers? But father stripped them."

"No Thor." Heimdall replied as golden eyes eerily stared without blinking. "There is a great power that clouds my eyes with darkness.

"What are you saying Heimdall?" Thor asked, anxiety seeping into his voice.

"What I am saying is I'm afraid that we have lost your brother."

000

**Cookies to anyone who can figure out where the quotes are from…without Google.**


	4. Waiting

**Another month has gone by, and I am so happy that summer is upon us. But I want to thank everyone for the reviews and support. I saw that people even from Israel to El Salvador and even to Mongolia were reading this story. So, thank you world for reading! And also sorry world for this horrifying and depressing chapter. Giving a shout out to my awesome beta reader, Midnight Spiral for the awesome editing. **

**Also, for this week's suggestion of fanfiction reading, try reading ****Green and Gold**** by Ardna. I'm currently up to chapter eight and I'm sucked in, it's a good crossover fanfiction of Once Upon a Time and Avengers that involves a Loki who has also lost his memories and a good redemption. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Avengers.**

000

Chapter Four: Waiting

"_Don't listen to a word I say  
The screams all sound the same  
Though the truth may vary  
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore"_

– _Little Talks, Of Monster and Men_

000

He's cold. Or at least he thinks he is. His body is shivering and his skin feels clammy but strangely he is not bothered by it. He blinks his weary eyes to adjust to his surroundings, but it is no use. His mind deduces that he is currently held captive in an underground room or possibly a dark cave. He wonders why his shoulders and arms hurt until he feels something coarse around his wrists. _Ropes_. His foggy mind slowly realizes that he is hanging from the ceiling and he tries to stand to relive the ache in his shoulders and almost cries when all he is able to achieve is to reach the floor with the tips of his toes.

He begins to feel hopelessness seep in until he hears a low pitched groan that did not come from his own lips.

"Hello?" he timidly calls out into the darkness. Another groan and then,

"Hello?" a different voice echoes back. A woman's by the sound of it. "Where am I?"

"Not sure." A man's voice said and it sounded like it came from his right. "How many of us are there?"

"There's me." The woman voice wavered as she replies.

"…And me." He answers with a weary whisper.

"So just three then." The man's voice observes.

"Oh god, my son." The woman moaned. "Has anyone seen my son?" The woman began to sob.

"Don't worry. I'll get us out of here. My name is Captain Dylan Jones, Army." Dylan assures confidently.

He doesn't understand what the army has to do with anything, or even what an army is, but it sounded important and possibly helpful.

"Elaine Sanchez." The woman introduces herself with a hitch in her voice.

An awkward silence stretches out when he realizes that he is supposed to introduce himself as well.

"You okay man?" Dylan calls out.

"…Yes?"

"Can you tell us your name?" Dylan presses.

"I… I don't know." He admits. "Do you know who I am?" he asks hopefully but the Captain's only response is cursing.

"Well, isn't that freakin' great! What do you remember?"

"My head hurting?" He sighs as he feels his head beginning to spin again.

"He could have a concussion…" Elaine pipes up. "I'm a nurse… injury…need to keep him awake…"

He's having a hard time hearing Elaine's voice and all he really wants to do is to go back to sleep.

"Hey, kid! Stay with us!" A panicked voice commands but it sounds so far away and he takes comfort in the numbness as he lets his mind slip away.

000

It's like someone has just thrown cold water at his face. He wakes with a horrified start and he's so disorientated that he doesn't even know why he woke up so suddenly in the first place. Then his mind has finally connected the dots as he realizes that someone is screaming, correction, two people screaming. He hears a baritone voice yelling and cursing and his mind faintly registers that it might be the man that he met earlier before. Dan? Jonathan? Dylan? Yes, it is Dylan that is currently screaming along with a sound of ripping of flesh.

"You fucking…bastard!" Dylan grits out along with an angry cry. "Fight me face to face, you piece of shit!"

It was hard to hear over Elaine's sobs and pleas but he's pretty sure he just heard Captain Dylan hit the monster back. His suspicion is confirmed when he hears a furious growl from across from him. He still can't see anything, but he definitely hears a sickening crack and hears no more cursing or screaming. But the new sounds are making his heart beat wildly in his chest and a whimper fell from his lips because these sounds were far from comforting.

Copper and vomit permeated the area they occupied as well as noises of slapping of meat, crunching and chewing. He doesn't dare to make a sound and he realizes that Elaine has stopped sobbing but he can still hear her softly gagging. The sounds continue for another ten minutes and then it stops. Footsteps crunch the gravel beneath him as he feels the thing move around him. The monster stops and he could hear, no, _feel_ hot breath down his neck.

It's hard to hold his breath when his body is violently shaking of its own accord. Right when he thought he was going to pass out, the thing backed off and a loud scraping noise showed that a metal door was opening.

He should have closed his eyes because as soon as the door opened, streams of light darted around revealing to him where he is for the first time. The light wasn't bright enough to hurt his eyes, but it was enough to see what had become of Captain Dylan. What was supposed to be a body was now nothing more than a mangled mass of blood and bones on the floor, meat completely stripped from his body except for the head. Eyes were opened and a broken jaw that left the captain with the face of a perpetual scream. Blood seemed to have painted the walls as well as the floor. A pool of blood had begun to form beneath him which had now started to tickle his muddy, bare feet.

His wish to remain silent was lost when he vomited.

000

Its day two and Dean and Sam still haven't found the three missing people. Dean was hoping that hunting a Wendigo a second time around was the charm since they didn't have any civilians holding them back, but they were still having no luck of tracking the victims down. And to make things worse, Dean was hungry and if he didn't eat something besides Sam's healthy trail mix, he's going to resort to possibly turning into a Wendigo himself. When he voiced this statement Sam rolled his eyes.

"Stop being dramatic Dean." Sam said as he finished packing away their journal in the duffle bag and in return pulled out the crumpled map. "And you wouldn't be so hungry if you would try to eat more than just the Reese's pieces from the trail mix."

Dean responded by roughly grabbing the map out of Sam's hands and turning away grumbling. Sam watched him with a mixture of frustration and pity.

"Dammit! Where the hell are they?" Dean cursed as he crossed off their current location on the map leaning against a damp pine tree. "We're running out of time. I don't even know if the captain is still alive Sammy, he's been gone the longest…"

"Well, we already checked out three tourist caves. Maybe we have to expand hiding spots." Sam suggested running his fingers through his shaggy hair.

"Like?" Dean challenged with the pen cap between his teeth as he held the map in his hands.

"Well, remember the Wendigo in Blackwater Ridge? Maybe there's a hidden mine around."

"Hmmm….that's a great idea Sam, why didn't I think of that?" Dean sarcastically remarked as he spitted out the pen cap and shoved it back to its proper place. "Oh wait, I did! And there are no mines here!" Dean turned to Sam and promptly shoved the map in his face to further prove his point as Sam was met with frantic marks, lines and crosses.

Sam, after two days of dealing with his brother's antics and attitude, began to feel the beginning peaks of anger and he tried to slap the map away but Dean wasn't having it.

"Dean, stop it! Stop-" Sam blinked and something clicked in his brain. Grabbing the map and holding it steady, Sam really looked at it.

"Dean! What if it's not a mine but an old army station?" Sam inquired.

"…There could be barracks which would give a nice little cozy hibernation home for them." Dean said, temporarily forgetting his hunger. Dean looked up to the sky which was clear of rain clouds and calculated the sun's position. Dean looked to Sam with regenerated hope.

"We have about seven hours of sunlight left, how far is it?"

Sam looked back at the map; eyes squinted in concentration, and then looked up.

"About three hours," Sam answered confidently grinning as hope began to take hold.

"All right, let's go and gank this thing."

000

There's something prodding his head and he wants to tell whatever it is to stop, but he's just so weak. Finally, gaining strength from irritation he manages to swat away whatever was poking him. Wait a minute, he can swat?

Moving around he feels wet dirt underneath him as he tries to gather is bearings. His throat burned and his hands and shirt feel sticky. The poke came again, and this time, it came with a voice as well.

"Hey, are you awake?" a small voice asked. It was a boy's voice and he doesn't necessarily know how to respond to him.

"For now," he whispers. "Who are you?"

"My name's Michael, but you can call me Mikey if you want."

He feels pity for the boy who is now stuck in this hell with him. But wait, wasn't there someone else here trapped with him too? He desperately looks around, trying to peer through the darkness. He can feel the boy breathing in front of him, and he reaches around him to try to set himself in a comfortable sitting position when he feels a hand. But Mikey doesn't seem to notice how there is a body laying a few feet from them, he continues to talk.

"So, what's your name? Do you know where my mom is?"

He doesn't respond because he is concerned for whoever is attached to this hand. He feels his own hands shaking and fumbling with the slickness of how the hand feels and he was hoping that it was Elaine, who could be this boy's mother, who might still be alive. He gives the hand a tug, and the hand gives no resistance.

"Have you seen anyone? I tried to run but it found me under the bushes." The boy keeps talking, unnerved by the silence. But he can't answer, not now that he knows why the hand feels so light. He feels his way down the thin, delicate hand, down the forearm and when he reached the elbow…

There was nothing there but the sharp end of bone. He drops the arm like it was on fire and it fell to the floor with a wet plop.

"Hey mister, you okay?"

He turns to the voice, not sure what to tell the boy. He doesn't know if he should tell the boy that no, he doesn't know where they are, doesn't know why this is happening, or even if help is coming. He is frustrated and angry and _scared_ beyond belief because he doesn't even know who he is. He doesn't even know where is own mother is. She could have easily been eaten by this monster as well.

He's startled when he feels a small cold hand touch his face.

"Don't cry, someone will find us." The voice is hopeful and naïve but he doesn't care. He leans his head against the boy's chest and feels small arms wrap around him. He feels tears run down his face but he doesn't care anymore. He embraces the boy back and he sobs, desperate to hold onto something that hasn't been taken by the monster.

000

**Hey, does anyone know if Wendigo's can open doors? It's been a while since I've seen the second episode but they used to be human and they still have thumbs so I'm guessing they should be able to move sliding doors. Love to hear people's opinions and critiques. Until next time.**


	5. Faceless

**Hey everyone! I know its been a while but with everyone on vacation, this chapter has been a bit delayed. And since today is my birthday all I could ask for are critiques and reviews. Whether it is about characterization, plot , etc anything is appreciated. Nothing more to say. I want to thank Midnight Spiral for taking time out of the summer days to beta these chapters! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or plots of Supernatural or The Avengers.**

000

Chapter Five: Faceless

_"Fell outta bed, butterfly bandage, but don't worry  
__You'll never remember, your head is far too blurry" – Disloyal Buffaloes, Fall out Boy__  
_

000

In a quiet and ordinary town of Lawrence Kansas, Missouri Mosely wakes from her soft queen bed with a start. Looking over to her small night stand crammed with journals, satchels of lavender and a few packets of salt, sat a small pink alarm clock that read twelve o'clock in bright big numbers. Small hands grip the flower comforter tightly as beads of sweat formed on her dark skin. Feeling her heart pound in her chest she took a deep breath to calm herself from a dream that had been bombarding her for the past two days. A man falling from the heavens, so fast that his body was surrounded by burning light and in the dream she falls with him. She felt the man's emptiness, betrayal and a hatred that blazed as bright as a high noon sun. But tonight was different. She doesn't understand why but tonight the dream has decided to show her more.

While the dreams before usually just consisted of the man falling through the stars, this time it showed her blood, and destruction of towns and cities. Screams and pleas pounded in her ears and she tried to block them but that only seemed to make them louder. Then, the screaming stopped altogether and different visions were then thrown at her of grateful tears, gunshots, salt and unknown magic. She saw a thin gangly man with raven hair and green eyes standing in the middle of a fork in the road. He turned around and glanced at the Winchester boys who watched him with rapt attention, waiting for his decision. The man turned back to the path which is when Missouri tried to reach out to him but only found herself reaching to the beige bedroom ceiling.

Gathering her blue silk robe, she wraps herself in it tightly and quickly turns on a light. She walks towards her davenport desk and began opening and shuffling through drawers. There were only two, now three, times of her life that she has had such vivid dreams of that sort. Questions have already formed and spun in her mind but the most important one sprang up like a child's eager hand in a classroom.

Where did she put the Winchesters number?

000

"Three hours my ass." Dean mumbled as he rounded a corner with a gun in one hand and a flashlight crossed over his wrist. They had finally found the base after getting turned around three times, then getting separated and eventually reuniting and all the while not forgetting to keep under the Wendigo's radar; it had been more than three hours. The sun had long ago crept away giving way to suspicious dark shadows.

Dean was about to try the hundredth door that day when he heard a barely audible shuffle. Turning swiftly, he swung the pistol around at the face of the supposed enemy.

"Dean, it's me!" A flash light reveals Sam with his hands up innocently.

Dean immediately backs off and lowers his pistol. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" Dean whispers angrily as he jerks his head in anger as he looks around checking for any threats. "Did you find anything?" Sam shakes his head. Dean was going to order Sam to fall back and try regrouping when a painful scream echoed through the abandoned hallways.

With Dean in the lead they sprinted after the screams only to pause two times to gather their bearings of the twisting hallways. Dean was nervous, afraid of running into a trap but his gut instinct was urging him that this scream was real and in trouble. They finally tracked down the origin of the screams. A large metal door and with an inspection of the flash light Dean and Sam observed five long bloody fingerprints upon the door handle. Dean and Sam exchanged looks and silent communication passed between them as Sam took the door handle and Dean took the front; shot gun raised and ready.

On a silent count, Sam flung the door open and Dean went in guns blazing. Keeping the Wendigo's attention off of its current meal, Sam continued to shoot as Dean rushed to the screaming victim.

Dean has seen many gruesome bodies in his short life time but he has to admit that this one took the cake. Before him was man covered from head to toe in blood, curled into a ball on the ground hissing and groaning in pain. Dean bent down and, after a few moments of trying to get the man to uncurl to stand, he saw within the man's arms a decaying child that was clutched protectively. With Sam's shouts and the Wendigo's growls he tried to force the man to stand again only to have the man collapse back to the floor. Dean cursed when he saw several deep bite marks in the man's left leg, with one particular nasty bite that still had the muscle half intact.

"Hey!" Dean barked. "Let's get out of here."

"The child." The man gasped out. "Take the child." The man is trying to push the dead child into the safety of Dean's arms. A lump caught in his throat when he took the dead child into his arms, the guilt of being late creating bile in the back of his throat. Dean doesn't have the time or the heart to tell the delusional man before him that the child is long gone, so instead he quickly set the child aside and focused his attention on saving him, because he can still be saved. A panicked shout whips his head around to see Sam being flung like a rag doll.

"Sam!"

Sam flew across the room and didn't fall to the bloody floor until he crashed into a lamp, desk and a cement wall. Dean dragged the bleeding man a safe distance from the fight before pulling out his Glock and fired five times at the Wendigo; three times in the torso and two in the head.

As Dean expected, the shots only made the Wendigo angrier as it turned its attention to him instead of Sam. Running out of bullets, Dean reached in his back pocket and retrieved a full magazine. Two satisfied clicks later, Dean's Glock was reloaded and began firing again. Luckily, Dean's distraction gave Sam time to pull out the flare gun and gasoline. Just as Sam tore the top of the gasoline bottle off, the Wendigo finally reached Dean.

Long dark fingers gripped Dean by the head and lifted him easily off the floor as thee other long hand smacked the gun easily to the floor. Dean yelled in pain as the fingers tensed painfully around his crown, threatening to crush it. In a moment of panic, Dean mindlessly whips out a switch blade knife from his pocket only to thrust it upwards at the Wendigo's caked jaw and further as it penetrated to the roof of the mouth. The Wendigo as a result screamed even louder but still refused to let go of Dean's head.

"Hey!"

The Wendigo turned its head around to the shout, snarling with the blade still impacted as chunks of flesh could be seen hanging on to the distorted teeth. With a determined expression and wasting no time, he shot the flare gun straight at the Wendigo. The reaction was immediate. Dean's head was gratefully let go as the Wendigo released a scream that resembled a car being crushed slowly. Long arms flailed as it tried to beat the flames out but Sam was a step ahead as he began to spray gasoline onto the flames. The screams increased that made Dean and Sam reach for their ears desperately trying to block out the noise. Then, finally, the Wendigo raised its head upward as its body molded to the flames, then burst into embers until there was nothing left but echoes.

"Dean?" Sam called out worriedly.

"Yeah! I'm fine." Dean called back assuring he was fine as he stumbled over to Sam. "Dude! You had an awesome line just waiting, and all you said was, 'hey!'?"

"Yeah, well… it distracted it from crushing your head, so you're welcome." Sam countered with a lack of spite as he observed scattered body parts below them with sad regret.

A whimper interrupted their halfhearted argument and it was then that Dean remembered the only survivor. Dean strode over to the limp form with Sam limping close behind.

"Holy shit Sam, he's still alive!"

The man before them was bleeding heavily; Sam was already stripping pieces of cloth from the duffel bag and went to tie it around the multiple wounds for the pressure. Dean however was more concerned about the man's breathing which was now bordering on hyperventilating.

Sam bent down next to Dean looking to the dying man with soft eyes. "It's going to be okay." Sam comforted while he tied a tight knot around the man's leg that was bleeding profusely. Forget about bordering, the man was now in a full blown hypovolemic shock. Dean instinctively reached out to the man's blood soaked shoulder but his hand ended up cupped on the back of the man's thin neck. Dean felt dirt, sweat and blood under his calloused fingers but he held on tighter forcing the man to look at him. Stern green eyes met wild emerald and for a moment the man stilled. Dean took the opportunity.

"Hey," Dean raised his voice briefly distracting the raven hair man's predicament. Keeping his eyes locked onto the man, he repeats Sam's words slowly. "It's going to be okay." The man at some point had latched onto Dean's leather jacket without him noticing and the grip tightened. "I need you to just breathe, okay? Like…uh…what women do when they're giving birth."

"Lamaze." Sam corrected tiredly as he disappeared to check for any other survivors. Dean gave Sam a look that clearly said, _and how would you know that, Samantha?_ Instead Dean turned his attention back to the man.

"Right. So just breath in and out." The raven haired man was too tired and confused to understand but he did breathe. It was shaky and shallow, but the raven hair man felt safe now. Whoever these men are, they had saved him. Warmth washed over him and he was starting to be able to breathe easier. The raven hair man was able to calm down, Dean nodded in silent confirmation. He turns to Sam.

"Anyone-"

"No." Sam interrupts him shaking his head.

Dean's face masks over and shows nothing more than absolute determination. Looking back to the Wendigo victim he says, "All right then. Let's get the hell out of here."

000

"I need to speak to Director Fury immediately."

Agent Hill had urgent news and she did not have time to go through the new safety procedures placed by the ever so cautious NSA. The guard was her only obstacle in her way from informing Fury of a chilling discovery, one that he will not be pleased with.

"Director Fury asked to not be disturbed. I'm afraid you will have to speak to him another time." was the only bland reply that the guard gave. Simple black jumpsuit with the torso safely covered by a black bullet proof vest with the shield logo proudly stitched in the right corner of vest, made him look like the rest of the guard drones. Agent Hill did not have time for the guard's unenthusiastic answer and summoned as much authority as she could in her voice.

"This is important! I have no time for this!" Agent Hill growled and in frustration she entered the guard's personal space in which he responded by gripping his gun tighter. "If you do not let me through, I will be forced to-"

"Forced to do what?" A deep and amused voice rung out and both the guard and agent Hill whipped their heads to Director Fury who must have opened his office door without them noticing. An amused smirk played across his lips and his good eye crinkled ever so slightly. It was a look Agent Hill noticed ever since Fury was able to tell the board of generals to politely 'fuck off' since the success of the Avengers, "Agent Hill?"

Agent Hill quickly stepped out of her surprise by pushing herself past the guard who gave an indigent yelp.

"Director Fury, we have a situation."

"Concerning?"

"We have a security breech, physical and internal." Agent Hill answered curtly and Fury face lost any humor that it held.

"When?" Fury demanded, his body straightened to his full height and Agent Hill had to remind herself to not be intimidated.

"Please, follow me sir." Agent Hill said as she began to lead the way to the crime scene leaving the disgruntled security to guard the now empty office. Fury, caught up with her in just two strides, black leather jacket and all.

"It was reported an hour ago." Agent Hill began, "All footage, pictures, and files concerning Loki have been erased from our system." They side stepped into the small metallic elevator that hummed as it brought them four levels below the air craft carrier.

"Any leads? Suspects?"

"Other than Loki, no. But what doesn't make sense is that none of our systems gave any detection of an intruder." A quiet chime rang and the elevator doors opened revealing bright white walls with equally white tiles and doors.

"What makes you think it was a breech in security then?" Fury followed agent to the middle door.

"Well…" Agent Hill fell silent as she paused with her small hand on the door knob. They were at the scene of the crime. Deciding it would be better to show rather than tell, Agent Hill opened the door which revealed high tech computers buzzing contently together. Three shield agents were currently taking photos and evidence. Said evidence were huge heaps of empty candy wrappers which varied from mars bars to lollipops to skittles, all which were scattered about the room. The wrappers could be seen lying forgotten on keyboards, monitors, desks and…was that a Mr. Goodbar wrapper in the ceiling vent?

Fury gravely looked around him as he slowly bent down to retrieve a candy wrapper that caught on the sole of his shoe. He twirled it between his fingers which read 'Butter Finger'.

"A calling card?" Fury asked one of the agents as he flicked the candy wrapper back to the floor.

"We're not sure, but we're collecting them to see if we can get any fingerprints or even hopefully DNA." A young and bright hazel eyed agent answered. Blond hair pulled tightly into a small pony tail leaving small wisps of hair that bordered her temples.

"Let me know when you find anything." Fury ordered sternly, and the young agent nodded eagerly as she took an evidence box full of candy wrappers and left the room with an eager pace.

"So let me get this straight." Fury turned to the rest of the occupants of the room. "Someone took the time to sneak into SHIELD's aircraft carrier, hacked into our system then proceeded to eat large amounts of candy while deleting information on Loki who is currently in Asgardian jail?" Fury questioned angrily. "And no one noticed _anything_?"

"Or maybe he was in here for two minutes and then dumped a bunch of empty candy wrappers." The second agent suggested who was in the middle of aiming his camera at a particular pile of candy wrappers. Fury and Hill silently glared at the second agent who looked to be Chinese American, late twenties. He flinched from Fury and Hill's glares and mumbled a half heard apology that went unnoticed.

"Director," the third agent, a young African American man, barely out of his teens, called to Fury. The agent was sitting at the third computer to their left, thick classic glasses perched at the tip of his nose. But the glasses went unnoticed by the third agent as his attention was focused on the thousands of little numbers and letters clustering the seventy-five inch screen. Fury and Hill stood behind him as they waited for his report.

"I've been scanning the entire system and looking for any bread crumbs that will lead us back to our little hacker." Seeing Fury's impatient look he added, "Which I won't know anything about for a couple of hours at least."

"But," the third agent continued raising his pointer finger to keep Fury from barking anymore orders. "I have found something interesting." He typed on the keyboard quickly and news sites from CNN to FOX and even a few international news channels appeared on the computer screen. "I wanted to try to replenish the lack of wanted pictures of Loki so I went to our beloved news sources. Notice anything strange?"

Fury and Hill scanned the news articles on the screen with determined looks and their brows furrowed as they tried to see what the agent was talking about.

"Agent…" Fury impatiently began.

"Agent Hansen, sir." Hansen introduced himself with a cocky smile as he finally pushed his glasses back upon their proper place.

"Agent Hansen," Fury corrected himself. "If you could get to the point…"

"There is nothing here sir. Whoever did this, not only deleted the files of Loki in SHIELD, but the news source, internet, search engines, you name it! I'm still checking the extent of the damage but so far it looks like he never existed!"

"Which means most of the police forces and armies of this world won't even be able to recognize him if he comes back." Fury concluded.

"Only if, Director. He's locked up, right?"

"If he is still locked up." He turns to Agent Hill. "I need you to contact Thor and get an update of Loki's imprisonment. Agent Hansen, when you're done tracing the hacker, gather a few sketch artists and bring them to the Avengers. I don't want anyone to forget that face."

000

Red and blue lights flicker across the pavement as peaks of orange and pink peek over the horizon. Sam watches the only survivor be lifted into the ambulance as Dean explains to the local deputies of their typical story of bears attacking the unsuspecting victims. He also really hopes that Dean sticks to that story and doesn't use the ridiculous story he's been trying to convince Sam to use which involved Bigfoot, John Wayne quotes and a few explosions. He doesn't care that the warning look he is sending Dean right now would qualify it as the 'bitch face'; he does not want to be locked up tonight; especially in a mental ward.

Sam looks back to the only surviving victim again; hair matted to the face with blood and fluids as an oxygen mask has been placed over his chapped lips. The paramedics are scrambling over him giving him fluids and what looks like pain medication that could knock out an elephant. The paramedics close the ambulance doors, cutting off the pleading green eyes that have never left him for one second. Pity clawed at him for abandoning the man especially after seeing the sheriff trying to pry the man away from Dean to have him be taken to the hospital but Sam couldn't blame the guy. Being a Wendigo's dinner would do that to anyone.

"You know there's nothing more we can do, right?" Dean joins him by his side as they watch the ambulance take off.

"Yeah, I know." Sam answers softly as he tries to wipe the dried blood off his hands. Without another word, they slowly walk to the Impala, ready to disappear into the night when Dean's pocket buzzed. Extracting the cell, Dean tiredly answers.

"Yeah?"

"_What do you think you boys are doing_?" a familiar voice demands giving Dean a whiplash in memory.

"Missouri?" Dean looks to Sam who gives him a questioning look. "Everything ok?"

"_Well for one thing, neither of you boys have called me since the last time you two came home. Didn't I tell you to keep in touch?_" Missouri demanded and Dean flinches guiltily.

"Yeah…about that. We're sorry but we've been a bit-"

"_Don't be sorry! Just tell me you're still with the young man!"_

"Young man?" Dean's eyes squinted in confusion as Sam bounced on the balls of his feet, anxious to listen.

"_Yes. A young man with shoulder length black hair, green eyes and looks like he needs a good meal._" Missouri explained as if talking to a confused child. Sam at this point has given up being patient and is now currently trying to press his ear against the other side of the cell phone.

"Actually, we just saved a guy just now matching that description." Dean said slowly as he uses his free hand to shove Sam's head away from the cell phone.

"_Please tell me he's still with you?_" Missouri asks desperately.

"Well, no. We sent him to the hospital." Dean answers as his brow crinkles in confusion.

"_Well what are you doing standing around for? Go pick him up at the hospital!_"

"We're not babysitters, we're hunters." Dean is tired and doesn't have time to take care of another human being. He does enough with that with Sam already.

"_Dean Winchester, you take that poor boy under your wing or I'll come find you and whack you with a spoon_!" Dean shocked at Missouri's anger pauses and something finally clicks. "_And you best make sure nothing else gets to him_."

"What else is after him?" Dean asked suspiciously, his slouched postured quickly reformed into a military stance.

"_I don't know, but something bad is coming and I don't know why, but that boy is connected. Now stop asking me questions and go fetch him! Or do I have to go find you and slap you two silly?_"

"No ma'am." Dean answered dutifully.

"_Good, now call me when you find him."_ And with that the cell phone hung up and Dean stared at the cell as if it had two heads.

"Well someone's cranky." Dean commented as he opened the impala door. The door creaks as Dean plops down on the leather seat.

"So?" Sam prompts as he gets into the Impala slowly minding his sprained ankle and bruised ribs.

"Looks like were paying a visit to the hospital."

000

**I've decided to put this story into three parts. Since this story started out as drabbles but then I added actual full chapters so the layout of the story will be this: Part one and three will have full length chapters while Part two will have dribbles (drabbles what the hell is it called). Why? Well...all will be explained. And the story that inspired the format of this story is called Bouncing Around by PurpleMoon3. An amazing crossover with Psych and Supernatural where Sean is God.**


	6. Jason Bourne Meets the Gang

**I am so excited for this chapter! It feels like things are finally moving along! I want to thank for everyone's reviews (and also birthday wishes). I also want to give a shout out for Basia Orci for pointing out my mistake from the last chapter: I wrote hypertension instead of hypovolemic shock. Thank you! This mistake should be corrected by the time this chapter is posted. I also wanted to thank Midnight Spiral as always being the awesome beta reader. As for some people who asked what Gabriel is up to…that will all be explained in good time. And besides, tricksters with broken homes got to stick together!**

**Disclaimer****: I do not own Supernatural or Avengers.**

000

Chapter Six: Jason Bourne Meets the Gang

"_I'm coming apart at the seams  
Pitching myself for leads in other people's dreams  
Now buzz, buzz, buzz  
Doc, there's a hole where something was."_

_-Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes, Fall Out Boy _

000

Beep.

He can't move.

Beep.

He feels as if he is swimming aimlessly through colors and distorted noises. It takes a while but he finally separates the two which then turn into snatches of conversations that float painfully around him.

Beep.

The colors are bleeding out only to be replaced by a blinding light that pierce through his pink eyelids. He doesn't know where he is but as long as he is not back in the darkness...

Darkness. Blood spattered on the wall as it tore off the arms, muscles stretching and ripping.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The air has become too thin and he desperately wants to scream but nothing is moving and it makes his heart pound in his chest even more.

Footsteps are stampeding towards him.

No. Don't let it get to me. Don't let it eat me. He tries to think of an escape until he remembers determined eyes, leather and strong hands that gripped and pulled him from the darkness. How can he call out to that man when he doesn't even know his name?

He is shaking now, side to side until -

The light is so bright that all he sees is a shadowed figure. Another scream is behind his lips until he smells leather and a familiar voice. Him. It's him. He simply thinks and his vision adjusts where he sees the man again that they tore him away from. The man's face is contorted into concern and worry.

"Breathe in and out, remember?"

Yes, of course he remembers. He forces his lungs to obey the commands. Using whatever strength he has left, he weakly grips the man's forearm, determined to not let go this time.

"His heart rate is finally slowing down." A voice sighs in relief from behind him. His rescuer turns his gaze from him to the voice.

"Sorry about that. I usually give that effect." The man jokes as a charming smile spreads across his face easily. He turns to see the owner of the voice. A woman with red hair pulled back is looking at them with a look that clearly says of all people.

"Dean." A voice warns and then he sees the other man that had also rescued him. Underneath his brown hoodie, bandages could be seen wrapped around his torso. The shaggy brown hair man limps his way over to the hospital bed with crutches tucked tightly under his arms. He then turns his attention to him.

"How you feeling?" He doesn't know how to answer.

He tries to form words but the only thing that comes out is, "'m alive?"

His tongue feels sluggish and he takes the time to finally notice the state he is in. He is wearing a thin cloth that could hardly pass as clothes. Cotton sheets rub irritatingly against his bareback and he stares with morbid curiosity of what could be seen as tubes that seem to have been inserted in his skin. Following the tubes he sees they are connected to bags of water

"Seems they hooked you up with some good stuff." Dean says as he gives him a wide grin. The man looks back.

"Who are you?" He yearns to know who these two men are, the men that stood in the darkness and blazed their way to victory.

"I'm Dean."

"Sam."

He pauses, the gears in his mind catching speed.

"What's my name?" He hopes that maybe the reason they found him was because they were looking for him the whole time. But his hopes are dashed when Dean's face scrunched into confusion.

"You don't remember your name?" Dean shares a look with Sam who shrugs in return.

"No." he says tiredly. "I hoped that you were my family." Dean shifts uncomfortably and realizes that he hasn't let go of his arm. Looking from his pale death grip that was glued to Dean's arm, Dean's eyes lit up as he bent towards to him.

"Say, if none of your family shows up, you wanna come with us?"

He can barely form words, he is practically naked and his own body feels foreign and numb. But with that question, even the strongest pain medication couldn't keep him from smiling.

000

Even with a lack of memory, he knows that this had to be one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. They were only ten minutes out from the hospital; Dean was driving while Sam twisted back towards the back of the Impala showing him pictures hoping to jog his memory. But with one look at the pictures of the victims: a Caucasian man with brownish buzzed cut hair who stood proudly by his parents, a tan skinned woman with long ebony locks holding a child who smiled so wide that he can almost hear the laughter, can almost hear-

_Please don't scream!_

He had another panic attack that not even Dean could bring him out of. And now, presently, they're back in the hospital as he sits on the bench face red in shame while Sam stands guiltily in a corner along an annoyed Den.

"I know you were only trying to help, but sometimes trying to force something to happen will only cause setbacks." The doctor chided as he kept his eyes on his clipboard. With a few more scribbles, the doctor peers up from his half-moon spectacles. "The mind can be a delicate thing, especially after a traumatic event that has just occurred barely a day ago."

"We're sorry." Sam apologized looking like a child that has just broken a dish. "Is there anything else we should know?"

"It seems that Mr. John Doe has asthma that are induced by panic attacks. You have signed the consent forms Mr.-"The doctor brings the clipboard close to his face as his white mustache wiggles in confusion. "Mr. Smith and Wesson?"

"Yep." Dean clips with arms crossed over in his chest as he leans against the white washed wall. The doctor pays no notice to Dean's agitated attitude as he rips a piece of paper from his pad and leans. Dean reaches out with the paper between his forefinger and thumb as he takes the paper.

"A prescription for asthma." The doctor informs. "Make sure you refill it once a month. The directions will come along with it and if you have any other questions you can call my office anytime."

"There's gotta be something else we can do."

The doctor looks at Sam with an amused smile. "But I believe you already have! Taking in a complete stranger into your home and family?" Sam flushed as the doctor continues. "No Mr. Wesson, what this man truly needs is time to heal and I assure you," the doctor gives a pointed look at the man. "The rest will follow."

The doctor groans as he pushes himself up from the wheel stool and walks to the office door. "A missing person report has been filed with the police, and we've taken your fingerprints and DNA. Until then I'm afraid you will just have to wait for your loved ones to come and find you." He opens the door signaling the appointment to be over. The three men reluctantly leave as the doctor fiddled with a smiling tie that reads: Laughter is the best medicine.

000

He's shaken awake and he groggily rubs his eyes with bandage hands. He finds himself curled in the back seat of Dean's car covered with a battered plaid wool blanket. He slowly sits up only to feel his skin slowly peel off the leather seat.

"We're here." Dean states as the two men open the doors to get out of the car. He still feels disconnected and drowsy and he jumps when his car door opens. It is Dean and he is only trying to help him. He feels foolish yet an uneasy feeling stirs in his stomach as Dean helps him out of the car. The feeling only increases when Sam appears out of no-where only to be by his other side hand on his back guiding him.

He feels weary of these men. They must want something from you, a little voice whispers in his mind, because no one ever does anything without a price. He shakes his head, blaming the little disconcerting whispers on the medication because what kind of life did he have if he can't trust the two men that had just saved his life?

He tries to take in his surroundings but he's having trouble focusing on anything more than for two seconds. Legs cramping, muscles screaming the three men walk up a warped porch to a screen door. Dean knocks on the paint peeling screen door and they wait.

Scuffling and then, an old man appears. Gray hair covered by a blue baseball hat, the old man glares at them and he tries to back away from the accusing stare but is held in place by Dean and Sam.

"What the hell did you idjits get yourselves into this time?" the man says with an exasperated tone.

"Not sure Bobby." Dean replies wearily. "Is Missouri here?"

Bobby opens the door to let them in but not before staring at him. He feels Bobby scrutinize him and he feels self-conscious of every cut and scrape that littered his body. He's practically carried in and it's not until they reach the living room that he's plopped down on a two person couch that he can finally see where he is.

"Just rest here for a bit. There's someone that we think you should meet." Sam says before giving him an encouraging pat on his shoulder. Dean and Sam leave him alone in the room and he finally feels some lucidity leaking back into his muddled mind.

The room that he first thought to be sitting room seemed to be more of an office. A desk sat in a corner riddled with papers and books while another desk, wide but simple, sat at the end of the room innocently. But what took him back was the sheer amount of books there were. The main desk that seemed to gain the most use were covered with books already open decorated in colored notes. Books that had no room on the shelves were stacked against the walls to the point it covered the faded tan patterned wall paper.

Curious, he forces his legs to stand all the while wincing. He limps his way to the nearest book shelf that sat next to long pane windows covered with neglected lace curtains. Hesitantly he reaches out to touch the leather-bound books. He doesn't know if he's allowed to touch what he assumes are the grumpy old man's books but he can't seem to help it.

A green hard covered book stands out and he gently eases it out of the shelf. He holds it gingerly in his hands and slowly peels the book open. He is immediately met with dust, musk and untold secrets. He doesn't understand the words on the page but it doesn't matter. He cradles the book as if it is an old friend and he takes another sniff from the crease of the binder as he feels for the first time a sense of peace and comfort. A picture forms in his head without meaning to, a room filled with nothing but aisles of bookshelves that stretch farther than he can see. Leather seats and chairs near a fireplace as lanterns lit above for reading light. Reading light for books upon books filled with knowledge that he not only wants to learn but needs.

"Well hello dear." The voice breaks him from his daydream and in panic he shuts the book with a snap. He stares at a dark-skinned woman who is considerably shorter than him.

"I'm sorry," He stammered as he looks to the old man who now looks twice as intimating now with his arms crossed over his chest. "I just wanted…I was...I think I like books." He blushes as he gently places the book back in its proper place.

"No need to be sorry." She says with a warm smile. "Bobby likes books too, don't you Bobby?" she turns to the old man who just rolls his eyes in response. "My name is Missouri Mosley, but you can call me Missouri." She walks to the couch and sits slowly.

"Please, sit." He hesitates again, wondering briefly what her motives are. "I'm not gonna bite you boy." She laughs lightly which rings pleasantly in his ears. "I'm sure you have questions you want answered as well?"

Resolving himself, he joins her on the couch as Sam, Dean and Bobby grab chairs from the kitchen to join them. There was an awkward silence that made him avoid eye contact with anyone. He was grateful when Missouri broke the silence.

"Let me take a look at you honey." She takes his hands into hers. She turns his battered hands over and looks at them with a slight hum. She looks up from the hands into his eyes and he feels an intruding power that sends shivers down his spine.

"Who are you?" He doesn't mean simple things such as names because there was more to this woman that meets the eye. Missouri's eyes twinkle but she doesn't release his hands.

"I'm a person with certain gifts. Some call me a psychic; others call me a mind reader." He tenses immediately, but he doesn't know why. He has nothing to hide or at least he remembers nothing that he has to hide. "And those men over there are Bobby Singer and Dean and Sam Winchester. And I can't tell you how glad we are that you're safe." Her words are comforting but something clicks together like puzzle pieces that surprisingly fit.

"Why am I really here?" he asks.

There is further silence on the matter but Missouri just smiles.

"As you might have found out last night, there are terrible entities that roam this earth. Entities that people now have written off for legends and myths." Missouri starts off. "Demons are unfortunately one of them and I'm sorry to say that you have caught their eye."

"I don't understand."

"It means that you got something that demons want, and what they want they get." Dean interrupts.

"Hush boy! Do you want to scare him to death?" Missouri scolds which Dean reluctantly yields to. She turns her attention back to him as she rubs soothing circles on his hands with her thumbs. "You're wondering what the real reason you're here, why these boys saved you from the monster."

"And what they were doing in the woods in the first place." He says quietly.

"We're hunters." Sam answers simply. "We find, research and kill monsters or ghosts that try to kill people."

"Like Batman," Dean grins. "Fighting for justice between shadows and disguises"

"But most importantly, we try to help people. We save lives."

"Like Batman."

"Can you even try to take this seriously?" Sam demands.

"What's Batman?" he asks. Dean looks at him in a horrified shock.

"Come on! Of all the things, you can't forget about Batman!"

"What's the first thing you remember?" Bobby cuts in seeing the conversation steering way off course. "Dean said you had a pretty nasty head wound. Anything you remember?"

He stops to think, he tries to go back before the monster, before the forest-

"You okay?" Dean inquires.

"Yes." He replies just realizing he started to swoon. He steadies himself before he answers. "I remember rain. I…I woke up in a forest, alone."

"Any bags, wallets?" Bobby pressed.

"No. Nothing." He frowns as he desperately tries to ignore the throbbing. "I remember running from the…thing."

"Wendigo. Nasty little bastard." Dean informs.

"That's about it." He looks back to these strangers, no heroes. That word gives him a strange aftertaste and he decides to change the subject. "Do you know what these demons want from me?"

"We're not sure yet honey. I've only had visions of them coming after you." Missouri finally releases his hands and set them down gently on his lap. "But you're in good hands. These boys are going to look after you." If this were news to him then this were especially news to the three men who all sported looks of surprise.

"I think we'll end things here. The poor boy is beyond exhausted." Missouri concluded as she stood up. He nods as he tries to stand up only to almost fall down but Missouri seem to have sense it coming and gently takes his arm and holds him steady while Dean and Sam take over.

"You boys take him upstairs. And son," she directs her wide round eyes at him. "We'll meet again soon." He nods sleepily as Dean and Sam lead him away upstairs. After that, it was all a blur of stairs, Dean and Sam's bickering, blankets and then, finally, restful sleep.

000

Bobby waits for the boy's footsteps to reach the top of the stairs before he confronted Missouri.

"Is there anything else you would like to tell us?" Bobby questioned. Missouri stopped before opening the back door of the kitchen. She turned her head to face Bobby who was leaning against the archway, suspicion clear in his eyes.

"Nope." She answered. "I'm afraid that's all I can say for now. Good night Bobby." She left quickly, the screen door banging twice behind her. Bobby doesn't stop her but she could feel his eyes on her back.

She felt guilty for lying, but even she herself didn't know what she knew. She hates being cryptic. She was used to just telling people what they want to hear but futures are tricky. A simple action or just a small amount of knowledge could either alter or confirm a possible future.

Night has fallen as stars twinkle in the purple and dark blue sky. She looks back to the Singer residence before she steals herself in her decision. The less they knew the better. It was all for the best really, at least until she could gather more information from her vision.

000

**As always, reviews and critiques on anything from the characters to plot lines are much appreciated. It's how I grow from a pine cone to a pine tree (is that right?...oh well). Also if I messed up on any more medical terms or even I got the procedures for John Does popping up wrong. Google was no help. All they did was keep showing me shows of John Doe. **


	7. Thunderstorms

**What's this? A update and its only been week? It's the end of the world as we know it! And even more exciting news, the next chapter will be the end of Part One! Which Part Two will be many little drabbles over the year of Loki's 'disappearance'. Not much to report, thank you to all that reviewed and thank you to my Beta Midnight Spiral.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the Avengers.**

000

Chapter Seven: Thunderstorms

_"Oh you tell me to hold on_  
_ Oh you tell me to hold on_  
_ But innocence is gone_  
_ And what was right is wrong."_

_- Bleeding Out, Imagine Dragons_

000

Bobby Singer is many things: a mechanic, unofficial scholar, researcher, and hunter (a pretty damn good one too). But if there was one thing he was not, it was a baby sitter.

Bobby had just woken up in the middle of the night for the fourth time that week. First thought always went to intruder. His eyes scan to the devil's traps that he had placed around his bed and to the salt lines against the window sill. He found them all undisturbed as thunder turned his attention to the old window that's being pelted by rain. His mind is logically telling him that it was the storm that had woken him up once again but the curling and churning of his gut tells him that there is something else. _Something is in here,_ Bobby thinks tiredly.

Quietly he reaches for his pistol that's tucked between his mattress and slips out of bed with only the rustling of sheets giving away his movement. Slowly, he makes his way around the queen bed, pistol raised just below eye level.

And then he hears it. Breathing. It is soft, but it's there. Adrenaline pumping, Bobby rounds the corner of the bed, heel to toe of bare feet feeling the old floor boards with every step as the safety is clicked off. He rounds the bed and-

A flash of lightning shows the Wendigo victim curled into a ball on the wooden floor, his body half under the bed as if to find cover and warmth. Bobby lowers the gun in half relief and half in frustration. He deduces that the man must have been the reason of his lack of sleep this past week; sneaking in and sleeping near the bed only to wake and leave before Bobby noticed. Exhausted, Bobby sits down on the bed and watches the wounded stranger sleep. He clicks the safety back on his gun and ran a rough hand down his face and let it rest on his chin.

He wasn't cut out for this, being a babysitter. Hunters weren't supposed to take care of the after math. They hunted the monsters, saved people if they could, then they left the rest to the police and shrinks to deal with the victims. Bobby watched as the stranger start to twitch, moan and whimper. Bobby is at loss of what to do. He doesn't know how to deal with people with PTSD. He doesn't even know how to deal with it himself. The hunters that can't handle their own demons or problems ended up in mental asylums or (most of the time) dead.

He should have pawned the kid off to someone else. To hell with Missouri's visions, he knows at least half a dozen people he can list off from memory that are more qualified than him. But there was something about the kid, something in his eyes that still had a spark. Something beneath the hollow look in his eyes, a fight Bobby recognizes that stops him from picking up the phone and letting someone else deal with him. And besides, Bobby knows that the man with no memories would want to be near people who can understand what its like being chased by the Supernatural.

The moaning is becoming louder and the twitching is now turning into thrashing. Bobby uncertainly approaches the man, not sure how deal with this situation but decides he should at least wake the poor kid. No, not a kid, but it's easy to make that mistake. He's way too thin for his own good and Dean's shirt and sweats seem to pool around him.

Bobby tries to think if it was Dean or Sam cowering under his bed and an idea slowly forms in his head. Crouching down he lightly touches the man on his shoulder and the thrashing becomes violent but Bobby holds him steady until eyelids snap open at him in panic, whether at being caught in his room or from the nightmare, Bobby doesn't know. But Bobby keeps his face calm and keeps eye contact as he says,

"You're okay, it's just a nightmare."

The man's breathing becomes more controlled and the tension in his shoulders becomes visibly relaxed.

"Come on son; let's get you in the bed." Bobby says softly as he gently takes hold of the man's torso and helps him stand.

"I don't like lightning." The man whispers so quietly that Bobby's keen ears almost miss it.

"No one does. It's loud, destructive and gets everything wet. But that doesn't mean you should sleep on the floor. You're gonna strain your injuries like that."

Bobby positions him on the bed only to lift him up again when a sharp pain ripples across his back.

_Son of a b-_

Bobby sucks in a breath as he automatically places his hand on his back. Cursing at his old age he realizes that he is in no shape at the moment to help the man back into the guest room. He notices the man look at him with a slight tilt of the head, lips parted in confusion to Bobby's sudden lack of movement but he is also in no shape to get back to his room on his own.

_I guess it's a sleepover, then,_ Bobby thinks in annoyance and slowly helps the man ease into his bed. Bobby is hit with nostalgia as he gently covers the man with the top cover as he used to do it with Dean and Sam. The man doesn't say anything but stares up at him with round innocent eyes. Bobby then walks silently with calculated steps to the other side of the bed and settled in himself. Placing the gun under the pillow, he scrimmages around his nightstand drawers only to find a half empty bottle of Aleve. Popping two capsules into his mouth, he washes it down with a forgotten bottle of beer. Satisfied, he settles back into the bed, eager to banish the strained muscle.

The thunder and lightning continue outside, filling in the silence. Bobby is finally going to sleep until he felt a body press up against his side. Bobby's eyes fly open at the contact. He cranes his neck to the right and sees that the man has scooted over so that he is curling around his side.

Bobby flushes and now feels so uncomfortable that he doesn't know if he should scoot away or tell the kid to back off. But it was then that Bobby noticed the even smooth breaths coming from the man. No nightmare terrors or moaning. With a defeated sigh, Bobby decides to let it pass just this once if it means that the both of them will finally have a decent night's sleep. Trying to ignore the comforting warmth on his side, Bobby relaxes into the mattress as he tells himself that this would be the first and last time that he'll let the man share the bed.

Its been five days since the boys had left Bobby with the injured man. Ellen had called for a favor that included a hunt a few states over. It seemed some demons were stirring up trouble and the boys have seemed to rack up a reputation of dealing with demons. Dean and Sam left the injured man behind convincing him that the man had no place out in the line of fire. Dean was right of course, but that didn't mean he actually knew what to do with the man.

Bobby looks at the man again and sees the dimly lit face that is peacefully relaxed which then nuzzled into his shoulder. Bobby awkwardly squirms but doesn't push the man away. He busied his mind with ways that will help the man cope with his own demons. He thinks maybe if he can find the man a hobby, something that would keep his mind off of things if only for a while.

The past five days was spent letting the man sleep. When he was conscious, he spent it wandering the house or calmly watching Bobby from a distance which had already grown tiring. And although the man seemed to be eager to reclaim his memories, there has been no significant progression. So far he knows that the man does not like sudden movements, squash, thunderstorms, microwaves, Stan the neighbor and Ben Stiller. However he does like tea, blue skies, music (mostly classical), lasagna, Dean's jokes and books.

Bobby's mind screeches to a halt and he mentally slaps himself.

Of course! How could he forget the kid's look when he held one of his ancient texts. His mind plays with an idea and he can't say he isn't excited about sharing his collection with a possible literature enthusiast. _Or possibly a scholar_ Bobby wonders sleepily.

Bobby tries to think about what he should start with, books on poltergeist? _No, too soon _he corrects. Possibly a book on languages that would give him so sort of clue of the kid's identity? Maybe.

Other books come to mind as he drifts away; fiction, poetry, biographies and maybe...

He wants to play with the possible idea of having an apprentice. Someone who can help him research and hold down the fort since the number of hunters seem to be growing and with word of mouth they all come to him for advice.

But he needs to squash that small wish away. The kid belongs to some family that surely must be looking for him and he would certainly want to be with _them_ and not stuck in the underground world of the supernatural.

The Aleve has kicked in and he is now able to ignore the increasing booms and shudders of the thunder. Tomorrow he will deal with the kid's predicament, but for now, now they will sleep.

000

**Questions, comments, reviews? Just click that little button down there. Go on, I know you want to.**


	8. What's in a Name?

**Hey Everyone! So we finally come to the end of Part One! And by the end of this chapter there are over a hundred alerts, fifty seven favorites and forty eight reviews on this story so thank you guys for your support! A shout out to my Beta reader, Midnight Spiral.**

**I'm also excited for this chapter too. It was the second one shot that I created almost a year ago so I had to edit a crap load so it could fit this story. Hopefully you guys will enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Avengers or the song "Home".**

000

Chapter Eight: What's in a Name?

"_Hold on to me as we go  
As we roll down this unfamiliar road  
And although this wave is stringing us along  
Just know you're not alone  
Cause I'm gonna make this place your home."_

Home, Phillip Phillips

000

"It's too dangerous."

"But it's his _choice_."

"You heard what Missouri said!"

"Hush!"

Dean, Sam and Bobby abruptly cut off their conversation when said subject of conversation walked in. The young man looked at the three of them with open curiosity as he took in their guilty expressions. As he sat down at the kitchen table it finally occurred to him that they were talking about his request to stay and become a hunter. Become one of _them._

The request which could change the course of his life has been made which left the man with nothing else to do but wait for their answer. He waited for Dean to speak who was at the moment staring a hole through a wall behind him.

The young man had no idea what was going through Dean's head. Neither did Sam, based on his confused looks that he and Sam shared. It has been three weeks since the Wendigo incident; the green eyed man's injuries had healed to the point of bearable pain. He could now function with basic skills such as lifting and walking. Unfortunately, no memories had surfaced and from the doctor's silence on the matter, it could be a while. And to the continuing dismay of the young man, the sheriff reported that nobody had filed a missing persons report fitting the young man's description. It was a mystery that the Winchesters could not solve. With the young man deemed human after he passed Bobby's tests, it seemed like the green eye stranger with slick raven hair had been dropped from the heavens and stranded with the Winchesters.

The unnamed man now found himself sitting at the kitchen table of the Singer residence facing opposite of Dean, Sam and Bobby. The young man nervously nibbled his bottom pink lip as he waited for one of them to announce their decision, probably on the matter of what to do with him judging on their intent stares at him. Dean broke the tension of the room and reached over the table and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels whisky. With practiced ease, Dean easily opened the bottle and poured himself two glasses. When finished, he capped the bottle and looked up at him as he pushed one of the full glasses towards him. The man took the glass, unsure of what to do with it and settled with tracing the glass's edge with the tips of his fingers. Dean sat down and took a moment to study him.

"Still set on being a hunter?" Dean questioned as he took a sip of whisky. The young man with no memories fidgeted in his seat but still kept eye contact.

"I have no memories, no money, no family or friends except for the three of you." The man said carefully. His somewhat long raven hair was tied back that revealed his pale face in worry. "And after what happened in the bunker… I know nothing else."

"We could help you get set up if Missouri's place isn't to your liking." Dean stated as he swirled the whisky within the glass.

"That's very nice of you three and I'm thankful, but…" the man paused to try and summon words that could explain his reluctance to go. Thankfully Sam seemed to understand the man's dilemma.

"You can't go back to normal life knowing what you know now." The young man met Sam's gaze and nodded.

"I'm scared. All the time." The man continued. "What if it happens again? What if I die this time?"

Fear seeped through the young man's voice. Bright green eyes darted around the room as if attempting to spot a monster lurking in the shadows and crevices.

"Please, teach me how to fight and let me help return the favor. I'll help with anything, just… I don't want to go." The man looked pleadingly to the three men sitting across from him. Sam, turned sympathetic eyes to Dean and nodded, Bobby stayed silent but also turned his attention to Dean. Dean finally stopped swirling the contents of his glass around. With a sudden clank, he banged his glass against the table.

"Alright. You can stay." The green eyed man sighed in relief. "But it won't be easy." Dean warned. "You're gonna have to pull your weight."

"That's understandable." The young man agreed.

"Sammy and me are gonna get you a couple of fake identities, with a couple of document…thingies."

"He means birth certificate and social security number." Sam explained as he rolled his eyes.

"But for now you'll stay here with Bobby." Dean revealed.

"What?" Bobby exclaimed in surprise. Dean gave Bobby a hard long look to which Bobby replied by taking the rest of Dean's drink and grumbled, "Fine. But I aint no babysitter."

"You'll help out with research, and you'll learn the tricks of the trade." Dean continued as he watched Bobby down the rest of his drink in disdain.

"We'll make sure you're prepared before you go out in the field." Sam chipped in with a small smile. The green eyed man responded with a timid one in return.

"Thank you. Thank you for everything." The man stood as Sam reached out to shake hands.

"Hold on! We're not finished!" Dean declared loudly. Sam and the stranger froze in mid shake in surprise as they looked bewildered at Dean. With a mischief glint in his eyes Dean lazily pointed to the man. "We need to give you a name. Unless, you remember your name?"

The man stood still and closed his eyes as he tried to recall anything at all about himself and as before he came up with a blank. No age, location, heritage, or name. With despair creeping back in, the man sadly shook his head.

"Then I'll name you," Dean decided giving a wicked smile. "How about, Jessie? Jessie James?"

"Dean, you can't just treat him like a stray dog." Sam scolded. "And why do you get to decide?"

"Because, I found him."

"I found him too!"

"Yeah, but I found him first."

"Um…guys?" the young man tried to pry himself into the conversation but the two brothers were already lost in their argument. Bobby just shook his head.

"How about…Richard?" Sam proposed eagerly.

"Pft, what is he, a Stamford prep? We might as well as call him Dick."

"We should let him decide." Sam turned to the man who watched the bickering with wonder. "What do you want your name to be?" Sam asked gently. The green eyed man however was at a loss.

"Dean." The green eyed man replied.

"You can't have my name!" Dean said. "Although, it is a pretty awesome name." Panicked, the man looked around the kitchen looking for inspiration. He spotted an item that was across from him in the room.

"…Microwave?" The man tried again. Sam groaned as he rubbed his fingertips gently at his temples. His attempt at easing his migraines was interrupted when Dean snapped his fingers.

"I got it!" Sam and Bobby looked at him in exasperation while the green eyed man looked to Dean with hopeful eyes. Dean's smirk grew as he announced,

"Luke."

"Luke?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Yeah, that way when Luke meets his father he will have to say," Dean pauses dramatically as he spoke deeply, "Luke, I am your father.'"

"You have got to be kidding me." Sam rebuked.

"Luke." The stranger rolled the name across his tongue and between his teeth. "Luke." The man repeated and the name escaped out of curved lips of a smile. "I like it."

"Great! Welcome to the team Luke."

The green eyed man, now Luke, smiled widely as he took in his new family. Sam, with kind eyes smiled gently at him as he raised his beer to him. Then to Dean, who swiped Sam's beer and raised it to Luke. And then to Bobby who finished his second drink. Luke raised his glass as well, then proceeded to mirror Dean and attempted to finish his drink. Feeling the burning hard liquor hit at the back of his throat, Luke spat out the drink and coughed as Sam heavily patted him on the back.

"Take it in. By the time we're done with you, you'll be kickin back shots and drinks like it's nothing." Dean chuckled.

"Dean, we are not going to turn him into an alcoholic." Sam growled as he glared at Dean.

"Who said anything about turning him into an alcoholic? I'm talking about having him drink like a man." Dean replied as he started to walk out of the kitchen as he deemed Luke's situation solved.

"Dean! Being able to drink alcohol like its milk is not healthy. And don't you deny that you don't have a drinking problem." Sam started to argue as he followed Dean out of the kitchen. "Ever since Dad died…" and then Sam's voice drifted away along with angry footsteps. Luke turned to Bobby who was refilling his drink.

"Do they do that a lot?" Luke asked Bobby.

"You have no idea. But there are ways of dealing with it." Bobby responded, "here." A refilled glass of liqueur was pushed into Luke's hand. "You're going to need this."

Taking the drink Luke felt a surge of warmth within his chest. He reveled in the feeling of finally being _accepted_. A giddy smile formed his lips as he realized that he was no longer alone because he has just become the ally (and possibly friends) of the Winchesters and Bobby Singer.

000

End of Part One

**Little fact, the meaning of Luke is "light". (Reference is )**

**So yes, Loki is now named after Luke Skywalker. (Sigh) and now the real work begins. Review, comments or critiques? I'm all ears. **


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